SweetHarts (5 Book Box Set)

by Kira Graham

  “Who’re you talking to?” Sin whispers, her eyes sparkling when she takes in my face and my probably glassy eyes.

  “Hart. He’s telling me about his date last night. We’re calling her Franken-nipples,” I slur around a giggle, enjoying the barks of laughter that ring out over the phone.

  It sure as hell beats the crickets I heard when I said the P-word. What? Like they think we like bleeding for days on end and smelling like something died up inside there? Like our souls?

  “God, what are you two, like best friends now? That’s so gross. Men are for sex, Cleo!” Alex yells, getting worked up when I giggle again and shake my head.

  Hart’s, like, my best friend. Whom I have sex dreams about. So, Alex could totally be right on that score—the sex part, I mean—but he’s totally more than just a dick. That I wanna see. Badly. Dammit. What is wrong with me?

  “We’re buddies,” I chirp, stoked when I don’t slur again.

  So gross.

  “Men and women can’t be buddies. Or pals. Or besties. Or whatever the kids are calling it these days. Men want sex, Cleo. S. E. X,” she enunciates, slowly and so loudly that I cringe because all the guys can probably hear her over the phone.

  “Not cool. Or true! Hart totally finds me disgusting to look at. Don’t you, Hart?” I yell into the phone, getting all kinds of worked up because I don’t think that that’s a good thing. At all.

  And yet I’m kinda banking on it, because although I may want this man, the truth is, I don’t think that I can handle him. He’s like…Starbucks. Potent. Addictive. The kind of coffee that wakes you up and gets you going. I’m the diner down the road, where the coffee’s free and kinda boring, but people keep drinking it because you only pay for the first cup.

  Wait…

  “Stop silently talking to yourself, and tell that man to go to hell. We’re supposed to be showing solidarity for Rose, not consorting with the enemy!” Sin barks, her eyes twinkling when I out-and-out narrow my own eyes.

  “No! We share stories. You know how much I like stories, and he’s got good ones, even if they’re gross and weird. Besides, I need cheering up, and he’s telling me about how he got humiliated last night,” I point out, hoping that they’ll enjoy that so much that they’ll get off my case.

  They don’t, though. Sin gives Alex a look, Alex sighs, and I hear her annoyance even before she smacks me upside the head and glares.

  “We went by the store earlier and saw the sign up in the window. We’re talking about it right now, and unless you want your…friend in on this, you’ll end this call,” she warns, her eyes boring into mine.

  “Now, wait just a minute—”

  “Hart! I gotta go. Call me later. I wanna know if Nipples got to you,” I yell, ending the call before he can protest.

  Once that’s done, I’m left staring back at the two monsters in front of me, which is what I call them because they terrify me when they look at me this way. It’s the same look they gave me when I entered that pageant in second grade and “accidentally” chopped off Marie Stokes’s left pigtail with a pair of scissors that just happened to jump into my hand. It’s that disappointed look that tells me that they’re on to me, and very, very annoyed with my lack of…I don’t know what to call it. Usually, we call it decency and move on, but right now, it’s all…disappointment.

  “Stop staring at me like that. I’m having a bad day.”

  “More like a bad year. Cleo! How could you not tell us that things were getting this bad? I offered to help you advertise for free, and Alex told you that she knows some people who could give you a leg up. Hell, even Tee was all in to hawk your stuff in her office.”

  “It’s not right to force people to buy my stuff, which is what Tee would do. And you guys have enough on your plates as it is. Sin, I appreciate you wanting to tell your clients about my product, but I also know that you have a no fraternization policy at the restaurant, and I don’t want you jeopardizing your job just for me. And Alex, honey, I adore you, but your ad campaigns veer towards the obscene, and Mom would have a conniption if she saw my store associated with nudity,” I sigh, rubbing at my throbbing temple with a grimace.

  God, I hate this time of the month. I get all achy and sick and grouchy, and the only thing that really helps is chocolate, something I can’t stand to look at right now.

  “Honey, come on! Be reasonable. You opened your store in a little, out-of-the-way hole-in-the-wall. You’re not even on any main streets where people actually shop. You get no foot traffic because people don’t know that CandyCane’s exists! Let us help you before—”

  “It’s too late! That fat pig of a bank manager called me in today and gave me my final notice,” I sigh, shaking my head when Sin opens her mouth. “It’s better this way, trust me. I hate going to work lately because I’m alone all the time, and everything goes to waste unless I bring it home for you pigs. No, I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place and hand in my resume at Mindy’s Marvels. At least there, I’ll be able to show people just how good my candy really is.”

  Mindy. Crap. I hate that woman. She’s all smug and successful, and I’m so jealous that I want to rip her hair out by the roots and feed it to her. And I’m totally going to go to hell for that because she’s the nicest person ever born. Ever. She’s offered me a job so many times that it’s embarrassing, and I should take it. I love being a pastry chef, and I absolutely wouldn’t go wrong working for Mindy. She works weddings and expos, and people across the state order all kinds of things from her store.

  It’d be good to work there and build up my experience, and it wouldn’t be the end of my dream, I think glumly, trying to stay positive. I could start saving again and then maybe open up another shop somewhere different, later, after I’ve made a name for myself in the industry…

  “Not that bitch! Please, Cleo. Do not work for her.”

  “Alex, Mindy is a good person—”

  “She’s awful. Always smiling and rubbing her success in other people’s faces,” she sneers, her lip curled with disgust. “It’s impossible for anyone to be that nice all the time, and yet Miss Goody-Goody is always smiling and happy. I’ll bet she’s got a dead body in her basement freezer.”

  “Now, Sinai, she can’t help that she’s doing well.”

  “She’s a damn goody two-shoes asshole who uses her false personality to do business. Half her clientele are referred by the church, and the other half are church members themselves. And don’t you even start about how that’s a good thing. I caught that no-good idiot tearing your flyers off the church bulletin board just the other day,” Alex growls, her hair nearly glowing with rage.

  What am I supposed to say here? To be honest, I can totally see someone like Mindy having her dead boyfriend tucked away in the basement freezer, just so she can take him out at night—

  Not nice, Cleo!

  “Oh, come on. She’s so nice, and she’s always asking after you guys. Be nice, ladies.”

  “First, I am no lady,” Sin says, shuddering at the thought. “And second, I really, really do not want that freak asking about me.”

  This time, both she and Alex shudder dramatically, and I’m left grinning despite the fact that I know I should be reprimanding them. How will I ever be a better person if I don’t at least pretend to be nice?

  “Whatever. Look, I’m not up for talking about the store right now, and as you can see, I’m trying to drink-eat my sorrows away,” I tell them, snatching the bowl tightly to my chest when Sin reaches for it.

  “Share!”

  “No. I need this,” I huff, shifting over when Alex shoves me and plops down beside me.

  “You can’t just hide from your problems.”

  “I totally can. I hid in the house for a week after I let the air out of the principal’s tires, and when I went back to school, it was fine. I’m just going to stay here until I feel better, and then I’ll let Dad deal with it.”

  They grimace, and I get the feeling that
they don’t like that answer, but thankfully, they move on and start throwing shade at Chilli instead.

  “God, it’s so hard to hate a man that hot!” Alex whines when her disses are less than inspiring.

  “He’s clumsy,” I point out, though honestly, if he were to, say, trip and fall on me, I would totally be okay with it.

  “Rose is rage-working. I stopped by her office earlier, and she threw a paperweight at me. And her boss was hiding in the staff break room because she yelled at him and made him cry,” Alex chortles, her face lighting up when we hear the front door slam so hard that it echoes all the way up to us.

  Chapter Eight

  Cleo

  “No one better say shit to me!” Rose bellows, the click of her heels loud enough for us to track her progress up the stairs and down towards my room.

  Mom’s probably hiding somewhere, and Dad has possibly run into the yard out back where his man shed is, though what he does in there is a mystery since he can’t build anything. The last time he tried, the spice rack he’d built fell apart and fell on Mom’s head.

  I wait with bated breath and almost giggle nervously when the door flies open and slams into the wall, bouncing back closed after Rose stomps in, breathing fire. There’s a hole in the wall, and crumpled plaster causes a flurry where the handle has bored into the drywall.

  “That no good, stinking pig shit piece of dog turd!” she rages, shaking her fist with every word. “If I ever see his face again, I’ll…I’ll do something very bad,” she yells, pacing in a way that reminds me of a very mad and unhappy Whoopi in Ghost.

  Not that I blame her. I’d have shit myself, too, if some dead guy had made me give all that money to nuns. What the hell do they need it for, anyway? They don’t even shave their legs.

  “Rose!”

  “I should drive over to his house and toilet paper the place,” she hisses through clenched lips, her cheeks turning red as her anger builds.

  When we were little, Mom used to call her Rumpleredskin, and Rose would get so worked up that she’d look like she was glowing. Nowadays, she tries not to lose her temper, but when Mr. Gallows calls and says the words “code red,” we all know that something bad is about to happen.

  “Rose! Dammit, would you stop pacing holes into my carpet and simmer down? I know you’re angry at Chilli,” I say slowly, wincing when she stops dead, turns her head slowly, and glares at me silently.

  That look reminds me of the time that I cut the hair off her Barbie. In my defense, I’d just discovered the perfection that was Sinéad O’Connor, and I thought she was hot.

  “Angry?” she seethes, her words coming out in a deep baritone that makes even Alex move back against the headboard. “I am not angry, Cleo. I’m way beyond angry.”

  “Uh, I can see that,” I say slowly. “Wanna maybe tell us why?”

  “Chilli! That sack of crap!” she yells, her fist shaking again.

  “Yeaaah. We kinda got that from the moment you took the front door off. What I meant to ask is, what is it that he did?”

  “He…he sent me a friendship bracelet,” she rages, the very last word coming out in a pained whisper. “And this long note explaining that we’re friends and that—that he’s seeing Mindy!” she screams, her tears turning into fuming rage again. “We can’t be friends, dammit. We’ve been friends.”

  Crap. This is the time when I need to get real with Rosie again, and pray that she finally gets the message and really hears me. It’s hard, but as much as I love Rose, and as painful as it is for me to have to tell her these things, I do it because it’s better to be honest than to feed this unhealthy obsession of hers. Not that I don’t find it funny when she stalks Chilli and sends him her underwear, because that shit’s funny. It’s just that I’ve been watching this go on for way too long, and in all that time, I have never seen Hart’s brother look at Rose with anything more than amusement.

  I don’t want to vilify Chilli Hart, and I don’t want to hurt Rose, but he’s just not into her, and as much as she wants him to be, it’s time she accepted the truth.

  “Rose, sweetie, listen. Chilli’s just—”

  “Not that into me,” she cuts in, her voice dull. “I’ve heard this lecture more than once before, Cleo. I freaking hear you.”

  “But sweetie, you don’t. If you were hearing me, then you wouldn’t be chasing him down beaches and sending him Valentine’s Day gifts. Or everyday gifts. Or your…ahem, love texts,” I say gently, trying to ease into this conversation because Rose is somewhat volatile.

  If you think that I’m a contradiction and nuts, then you don’t know Rose. She’s unpredictable at best. At worst, you’ll still be talking to her and spitting out teeth at the same time.

  This time, though, she slumps as if all the fight has left her, and raises her eyes. They’re filled with dejection, an emotion I hate seeing on my sister. Of the five of us, Rose is the energy, the driving force that powers every mad caper that we’ve ever been on. She’s positive and enthusiastic, and she has the best ideas.

  Except when it comes to love. See why I shy away from that passionate, mad-for-you, “my life revolves around you” emotion? It’s too unpredictable, and, as I’ve learned from Rose’s experiences, too painful. I don’t ever want to feel the way that I know she’s feeling now, and, to be honest, as obsessed as I am with stories and having the perfect tale to dazzle people with, I’ll settle for something that doesn’t crush me when it eventually comes falling down.

  “It’s just…we’d be perfect together, ya know?” she whispers, her lips trembling. “He’s smart and funny, but unfocused. I thought that maybe I could be the focused half, and he could be the fun half.”

  “But Rosie! You are the fun one,” I argue, smiling when she sniffles and digs her toe into the carpet, peeking at me from below her lashes, expecting more.

  “Nah. You’re always—”

  “It’s totally you,” I assure her, elbowing Sin and Alex when they keep silent.

  “Yeah!”

  “You’re the cool one. Totally. Remember when we watched those spooky ghost shows, and you suggested that we sleep in the graveyard with cameras and all that digital equipment we stole from Uncle Jack? That was all you,” Sin says proudly, while I shiver and try to block out that entire night.

  Scariest night ever, and not because we were camping on gravestones, and Tee kept saying things like, “Myth and legend say that three is the witching hour when the dead come out to play.” No, it was terrifying because Rose was convinced that we’d see a real ghost, and when time started running out, I was nearly hysterical with fear. I’ve never prayed to see a ghost so much in my life. And they scare me!

  “Yeah! And that time when Blessing Jessop called my ass fat, and you planned that whole scare night. We called her and pranked her, Scary Movie style, for hours. And when we snuck onto her porch wearing black and rattled her windows? She screamed so loudly that the neighbors called the cops. Now everyone thinks she’s nuts,” I point out, cringing a little because the last time I saw Blessing, she wasn’t looking so blessed.

  Rose’s lips twitch slightly, and she tilts her head, considering our words before a beatific smile bursts free.

  “That’s totally true!”

  “Yeah! You see, Rose? You couldn’t let him be the fun one, sweetheart—you’re just too cool for that. What you need to do is find a guy so devoid of happiness that you fill his world,” Alex points out, seeming convinced that she’s right.

  Me? I think that Rose needs someone who’ll enjoy her sense of fun, and I hate to say this, but I think that Achilles Hart may just be the perfect man for that position. Too bad he’s a freaking idiot.

  “Ugh! Why can’t life just be simpler? When Mom and Dad started dating, things were so easy. Me? I meet toad after toad, and the one good man I’ve found is dating so many other women, the police would consider my evidence folders a crime,” she sighs, not at all ashamed of the fact that she’s probably breaking numerous laws, and that
some shrinks would classify her as a psycho. That is, if they ever saw her shrine to Chilli.

  I’m thinking that that needs to disappear. Just in case Rose snaps, and someone ends up…missing.

  “Please, your dad practically stalked your mom, got her drunk, and knocked her up so he could keep her. Not that I’m judging. I’ve heard how my folks met, and how Sin’s parents got together, and I’m thinking that this crazy is a Sweet genetic disease,” Alex mutters, smiling when I snort.

  Because it’s true. If I weren’t so deathly afraid of falling in love with Hart, I would totally stalk him. Technically, I possibly already did when I Googled him. Ten times.

  “Crazy or not, it’s time you moved on,” I point out, feeling the guilt hit me when Rose falls down on the bed, face-planting in my crotch with a dramatic sigh that has me wiggling away and feeling the need to scrub my lower lips.

  Gross.

  “Fiiiine. Then you have to move on, too! Hart’s a great guy—”

  “Rosetta—”

  “No. Stop trying to get away from this, and listen to me, Cleo. I may have struck out with one of the Hart brothers, but you haven’t,” she insists, sitting up to flick her heels off the side of the bed and recline on her side along the bottom half, resembling a queen posing for her court. “Adonis is a good guy. I’ve seen him with his parents—hell, I have a dossier on the man.”

  “You’re insane!”

  “And you’re a filthy coward. How long are you going to let what happened with Dennis influence your life?”

  “Rose—”

  “No. She’s right,” Sin cuts in, her eyes going hard when I open my mouth to curse them. “You’re twenty-six years old, Cleo, and Dennis is six years in the past, and yet here you are, ignoring a super hot, super cool guy because you’ve got it in your head that you’re done with love. All those stories you used to tell us about your dream guy…this is him.”

  “Totally.”